Malevolence
by BB Rosie
Summary: Blaise and Draco have malevolent plans for Hermione Granger ...
1. Chapter 1

AN. This is an adopted fic from another FF writer. Original title is, too, 'Malevolence'. It's complete, but I'm making changes chapter by chapter. I have full permission to re-post this fic and take ownership.

Hermione Granger sat behind her desk, a smug smile gracing her full pink lips. She lightly fingered the parchment before her in appreciation. Today was the day she would send Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy to Azkaban. At 25 years of age, Hermione was a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic's Fair Muggle Practices Department. Her position was to ensure the fair treatment of muggles within the Wizarding business world. Often, she had to investigate several Wizarding empires to guarantee that muggles were not blackmailed, under the imperius curse, or threatened into business dealings by Wizards. The war was over now and the light side had won. Many Death Eaters had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, but there were some who escaped the clutches of the dreadful prison. Much to Hermione's dismay, Zabini and Malfoy were two of the lucky ones.

She had rallied and petitioned after the war to have them sentenced. She succeeded, but only marginally. Each snake was sentenced to two years in the ghastly prison, thanks to her. But she wanted more. She wanted them to receive The Kiss from the Dementors, but they'd schemed and bribed their way out of it. She knew they were still searching for the person who sent them to Azkaban, but they had been unsuccessful. They would kill her if they found out. She had no doubt in her mind about that. During the war, they had killed, crucio'd and tortured. They were active participants in the Voldemort's ranks. But they were rich and powerful, therefore avoided prison, other than a measly two years. The men were sentenced at age 18, and released at age 20. They were no different now than they were prior to their sentence. They were cold and impassive as ever; cruel men who wandered the streets of the Wizarding and Muggle world; cruel men who owned the most powerful empire in the Wizarding world; cruel men who deserved to be locked away forever. But not for long.

As the lead investigator within her department, she was obviously the first choice in the upcoming audit of MZ Industries, and she couldn't be happier about it. She knew that the cunning Slytherins would produce a fabricated document illustrating their dealings with the muggle world in the building of their empire. But she had an informant. And this informant provided her with the very real document that accurately described their highly unethical management of muggles. This document showed that they threatened, blackmailed, and imperius'd countless muggles into signing over their hotels and land to MZ Industries, allowing the men to develop their own Hotels and Restaurants at minimal financial loss. But they covered that up. And without her informant, she would have only suspected. But not have the evidence. Allowing them to evade prison once again.

But she knew. She had the evidence she needed. She could march down to the Auror Department right there and then and turn them over. But she wanted to play them, first, like they had played the Wizarding world. She wanted to see their faces when they realised that she, Hermione J. Granger, brought them down. So she would go to the scheduled meeting, listen to them, allow them to present her with the fictitious documents, let them believe she was fooled, and then she would strike, and watch their faces crumble.

Hermione stood, fixed her silk blouse, and straightened her pencil skirt. Today was the day she would bring Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy down for good.

Blaise sipped on his tumbler of Fire Whiskey as he watched Draco pace the room. Draco had been anxious all week for the meeting with the mudblood. They had the appropriate documents prepared some time ago, excellently manipulated. But the mudblood was good at her job, as much as they hated to admit it. But they had a perfectly fabricated document that showed their 'fair' dealings with the Muggle World. She didn't stand a chance. Yet, Draco remained anxious. Blaise wasn't entirely sure why. He didn't question it; he just watched him pace the room, as he sat on the lush armchair, tumbler in hand.

Blaise considered Draco's anxiety for a moment. _If_ the mudblood found out the truth, they would be sent right back to Azkaban. Their two years there had been horrendous. It was certainly not a place they wished to return to. They had been lucky to escape the prison, bar two years. But they only saw the inside of the dank walls as someone had been petitioning anonymously to have them sentenced. They did not know who, but they were still searching. They would find the culprit, and would kill him, as they had killed so many others during the war. Blaise and Draco did not necessarily _enjoy_ killing. It wasn't a thrill, nor a hobby. It was a transaction of sorts; a means to an end. They felt no remorse or sympathy. They just killed. They'd never participated in the torturing. It wasn't to their taste. They got no enjoyment or satisfaction from it. But they didn't mind the killing. It was just a simple curse.

Draco checked his watch for the umpteenth time.

"Ten minutes." Draco stated.

Ten minutes until the mudblood arrived. Ten minutes until they would have her sanction their documents. In ten minutes time, they would have the authority to expand their empire across the Americas. But they needed the ultimate mudblood to do so. And it made them sick to their stomachs.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger sat in the luxurious Italian leather armchair across from the extravagant mahogany desk. She was in Draco Malfoy's office, seated across the table from him, as Blaise Zabini leaned against the cabinet beside Malfoy. Both pure-bloods were drinking Fire Whiskey, but neither had offered her a drink. A drink would have been nice. She would have enjoyed destroying them as she casually sipped on a wine.

Malfoy was explaining the details of the document in her hand - the manipulated document.

"I see, Mr Malfoy," she said as she examined the parchment before her. "Very good."

The men shared a smirk as she stood and flipped her hair to the side. Her curls cascaded down the side of her face as she approached the desk and placed her bag on it. Slowly, she withdrew her stamp and ink pad. She slipped her hand to the split in her skirt and withdrew her wand that was fastened against her leg with a garter. She lifted her stamp and slammed it down on the parchment.

DECLINED.

She stepped back, removed the stamp, and admired the red letters that covered the parchment. Beautiful. It felt better than she had ever imagined. It was made so much better when she looked up to the confused faces of Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's face twisted into a scowl, and Blaise looked at her incredulously.

"Were you distracted, Ms Granger?" Blaise seethed. "Were you too busy fanaticising about your Weasel to pay attention to the presentation?"

"Oh, I paid attention" she said. "I suppose you are confused. Allow me to explain."

Malfoy sneered at her. "Please do."

She smiled as she placed her stamp and ink pad back in her tote bag. "I allowed you to present me with your nonsense out of courtesy. But I had no intention of sanctioning your documents today."

Blaise was standing upright now, his body tense in anger. "Is that so, Granger?"

"Yes, _Mr_ Zabini, it is. And I would prefer it if you addressed me as _Ms_ Granger. However, I cannot say I expect any level of professionalism from either of you."

"And you referring to our documents as 'nonsense' is 'professional'?" Malfoy said through clenched teeth as he stood from his chair.

"You cannot deny that those documents were beyond fabricated. What do you expect when you hand me complete crap and ask for me to sanction it? You truly lost your minds in Azkaban, didn't you?"

"How dareyou speak to us like that! You should know your place in this world, mudblood." Blaise seethed.

"Blaise," Draco snarled "I think she's under the impression that she belongs here in this world."

Blaise laughed sharply, but there was no hint of humour on either man's face. She was not concerned. This is what she wanted. This is what she waited years for.

"I belong here more than either of you snakes. You both know it as well as I do, and that's why you hate me – because I'm muggle-born and brilliant. I'm better than you in every way possible, and it kills you inside. Doesn't it just tear at your soul knowing that I, Hermione Granger, best you in everything?"

She grinned, her beautiful heart-shaped face lighting up at the rage and horror in the men's eyes. Malfoy inhaled deeply, jaw clenched and eyes shut, trying to compose himself.

"Ms. Granger, we would gratefully appreciate it if you were to tell us the reason for this refusal to sanction our paperwork."

She could see his struggle. It was great. He was practically shaking from rage, but trying so very hard to remain calm.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, I have been provided with the original documents that illustrate the misconduct of MZ Industries in regards to the expansion of hotel and restaurant chains throughout the Americas. I have sufficient evidence that confirms practices of an immoral nature. Blackmail, threats, and the imperious curse, to name a few. Certainly enough to put you both back in Azkaban for life. I hope you packed."

She smiled as she gathered her cloak and bag. She turned to leave the men to their misery, but as she walked away she heard them both speak at the same time. She didn't know who had fired the curse at her. She didn't know who had silenced the room. All she knew was that she was in incredible pain.

"Silencio!" "Crucio!"

She felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside out. She heard screaming. Was that her? She didn't know. It didn't feel like she was screaming. It felt like she was being skinned alive, put back together again, and skinned again. Hermione was on fire, burning alive. That's how it felt, tearing apart her bones and flesh. She was in so much pain. She couldn't breathe. Knives were carving her insides. And then she felt nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaise kept his wand trained on the woman writhing on the floor. She screamed, begged to die, pleaded for it to end. He wanted to grant her wish, but he couldn't. He had been a fool and acted on impulse. Granger stopped moving, stopped screaming. Blaise flicked his wrist, and ended the unforgivable curse on the mudblood.

Blaise sighed. "We shouldn't have done that."

"No." Draco agreed. "But it's no matter. We can obliviate her and send her on her way."

Blaise ran his fingers through his thick black hair. "She'll know she's been crucio'd. She'll recognise the aftereffects."

The mudblood groaned on the floor as she started to wake.

"Dascoma." Draco hexed her into a deep sleep. They needed some time to manage the mess they'd created. Both men stood, the limp body of Hermione Granger at their feet, considering their options in silence.

"We need to make her sanction the document," Draco said.

"I want more than that," spat Blaise. "I want revenge."

"We can't kill her. It would be too obvious. We'd be back in our cells at Azkaban in a matter of days."

Blaise sighed in exasperation. "I don't want to _kill_ her. I want her to really suffer."

"You want to torture her? I wouldn't say no. But she can't go missing for long without it coming back to us. And she would recognise the aftereffects instantly. We can't let her go, we can't detain her."

Blaise looked thoughtfully at the woman sprawled at his feet. Hate boiled within his churning gut, and his fingers itched to fire a killing curse. Granger had been his primary target throughout the war. He'd wanted, so much, to end her life. Draco, too, pined for the kill. The ultimate mudblood.

Draco kicked into her side, his foot connecting with her ribs with a sickening crunch. Surely he had broken some of her ribs.

Sighing, Draco walked over to the desk and filled two tumblers with Fire Whiskey.

The men both sat in the armchairs and considered their options. So many options. But none would hurt her to the extent they desired, as well as provided them with the sanctions they needed. They supposed they could imperious her, but her Weasel and Pothead would no doubt recognise the clouded eyes of their precious mudblood, and immediately check her for signs of the curse. So that wouldn't work. They needed something concrete. Something that would benefit them, and provide them with means of destroying this bitch. All while protecting them from Azkaban.

They needed something crazy. And crazy is what they came up with.

Both men turned in their chairs to grin evilly at the unconscious witch. Oh, yes. This could work.

They had a plan.

It was insane.

But brilliant.

* * *

Thirty minutes after Blaise and Draco panned out the details of their outrageous plan, they were bustling about the office preparing.

Blaise placed a photograph of the mudblood on Draco's desk. The photographed showed Blaise and Draco standing on either side of Hermione, arms wrapped around her, as they kissed her cheeks and she laughed happily. The photograph, that was stolen from her flat in London, was originally of Hermione, Harry and Ron, but a few charms changed that quickly.

Draco's house-elf, Pinky, stood by the limp body of Hermione, healing her ribs and treating her wounds. A relaxation potion was used to combat the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. So when she woke, her body would be too relaxed to twitch and spasm sporadically.

Draco had only just returned from Malfoy Manor, where he prepared his bedroom for the day. He charmed muggle and wizarding photographs of the girl, and placed them around his bedroom and home office. Blaise thought of doing the same, however he spent most of his time at the Malfoy Manor, so they decided it made more sense to carry out their plan there. He was now sitting at his desk, reading the schedule and notes Pinky had provided him with.

 _Her_ schedule. _Her_ notes. It told them all they needed to know. What she liked to eat. What she didn't. When she would work. When she would visit the Burrow. When she would visit Grimmauld Place. What she washed her hair with. Her favourite colour. Her ambitions, and aspirations. Her favourite novels. Her favourite shops. Her favourite drinks. Her fantasies. Her desires. Her fears. Her platonic love for Ronald Weasley. Her thoughts on his marriage to Lavender Brown. Her hatred for Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Her loneliness. Her desire for true love. Everything. All discovered from her poorly hidden and charmed diary. She really should be more careful about what she put in that thing. They now knew everything.

And they would use this information. They would use it make her love them. To make her believe them. And to destroy her. And it would be brilliant. It would be marvellous. They would love every fucking minute of it.

They would wake her soon. But they had to go over everything first. They couldn't afford any discrepancies.

Blaise addressed the occupied house-elf. "Stock the kitchens at the Manor with her favourite foods; muggle and wizarding alike. Bring her clothes to the Master Bedroom. Not all of them, but enough to prove that she spends most of her time there. Don't forget anything. Remember her toothbrush, her toiletries, her shampoo, her menstrual products, everything. If there is one thing forgotten, she will know. She will already be suspicious at first. We can't afford any fuck ups."

Pinky stood and bowed to Blaise, then Draco, and apparated with a loud 'pop'!

"She hates chocolate. So strange." Draco said as he examined the papers in his hands.

"Mudbloods are weird." Blaise stated. Draco nodded in agreement. Definitely.

Sighing, Draco handed the parchments to Blaise. "You will have to read over them. We'll wake her soon, and obliviated her. We need to be prepared; we need to know everything. She's going to be very suspicious."

"Yes. So we say that she fell?"

"Yes. We were arguing over when she was going to tell Potter and Weasel about our relationship, and she stormed around the room in a rage, claiming that she was not ready to face them. She tripped on the step and hit her head on the ground, causing her to pass out."

"And we, ever the doting boyfriends, immediately flocked to her side and fussed over her until she came to." Blaise smirked.

"We were so worried about our dear little Hermione." Draco laughed.

"But she still has to sign the document. So we say that is why she came here. But we probed her about her lover-boys, and she lost it."

"Yes. And we've been dating for … six months?" Draco quizzed.

Blaise didn't respond. He was reading the mudblood's diary.

"Blaise?"

Blaise looked up at Draco, a devious smile playing on his lips. "Eight months."

"Why eight?"

"Because of this." Blaise tossed the diary at Draco. "Page 274. She was at a bar in muggle London. She saw us there. But ignored us. Do you remember that night?"

"Oh yes," Draco grimaced. "When we were meeting with the muggles that owned the land in the highlands?"

Blaise nodded. "That's the night. I didn't realise she noticed us. But it's no matter. It's quite perfect actually. Read what she wrote."

"Her handwriting is atrocious." Draco stated as he examined the diary entry. "Ah. Perfect."

"Yes. She became so intoxicated that night, she did not remember leaving the establishment. Only waking in her bed the next morning."

"We could obiviate the memory of the morning, and everything about us from that point onwards." Draco suggested.

"And claim that we escorted her home that night, and were the perfect gentlemen. The following morning, you cared for her hangover as I cooked us breakfast."

"You can't cook." Draco raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"Well. We had Pinky bring us breakfast."

"Better." Draco agreed.

"And over the following days we courted her. The both of us."

"Yes. It's not so difficult to believe, if we can convince her of our 'repentance' for our previous actions in the war." Draco sneered in distaste at his own words. The men were anything but repentant.

"That, and occasionally in pureblood history two men would court and wed one woman."

"But that was due to the lack of female pureblood population." Draco responded.

"Yes, but she would perhaps know about this practice of our ancestors. She is quite knowledgeable in the ways of the Wizarding World. Trying desperately to fit in. Disgraceful. But this works in our favour. She would understand that the thought of two men courting one woman is not a strange custom to us, given our heritage. But it took some time to convince her."

"And now we're oh-so-devastated that we have to do it all over again."

Blaise laughed. "Exactly."


	4. Chapter 4

Malevolence Chapter 4

Hermione Granger was floating. She was floating in darkness. It was nice. It was nice here. She didn't want to leave. She could stay here forever and be content. At peace.

But it was not to be. A light was in the distance. She felt herself being pulled toward it. She didn't really want to go to the light. But it was pulling her. She had no choice.

She was closer to the light. The closer she got, the more she awoke. She could hear voices.

"Hermione, wake up."

"I think she's coming to."

"Cara?"

"Princess, it's us. Wake up, my love."

It didn't sound right. She didn't know who these voices belonged to. She knew they were men. But she didn't know who. So why were they calling her princess? And who's Cara? Was that her name?

No. One of the voices said Hermione. It felt right. That was her name. She just knew it. But who were these men? She didn't know their voices.

She was almost at the light now. She could almost touch it, it was so close. She felt better about going to the light now that she was close. It was warm. It was nice. Yes, she wanted to go to the light now. The darkness was nice, but the light was better.

She was in the light now. It was nice at first. But then it felt strange. The whiteness around her slowly transformed as she blinked. Her surroundings changed from white nothingness to … an office? There was a large desk, several chairs, a bar, bookshelves, etc. Yes, it was an office. Was it hers? No. It didn't feel right. It wasn't hers.

Two men were leaning over her, kneeling by her sides. Each had one of her hands, cupping in their own.

"Mia cara" the one on her left spoke softly. He was soothing her. But it didn't work. It didn't feel right. Italian. She knew he was speaking Italian. She looked at him. She took him in. He was … beautiful. He had olive skin, gorgeous dark hair that covered his forehead. He was leaning over her still, so his hair lightly touched his dark eyes. He looked so brooding; so mysterious. He was so very handsome. She licked her lips unconsciously. He smiled softly at her, as he placed a small kiss on the back of her hand.

"How are you feeling princess?" Another voice. She turned her head to her right.

The man on her right was a complete contrast of the other man. This man was pale. So pale. But not in a sickly way. It was as though he was carved from marble. So elegant. So beautiful. His eyes were a fierce grey, and they were terrifying. But in the most endearing way. His almost white-blonde hair brushed over his eyebrows as he looked at her with concern. She was confused.

She knew these men. She knew it in her bones. That, and they were fussing over her like she was the most important woman in the world. So they knew one another. But she couldn't quite figure out how.

She was dazed. She tried to sit up, but the men stopped her.

"Mia amore, don't move. Just relax for now." The tanned one spoke, while the pale one gently pushed her back onto the ground. She lay back. She noticed that the ground was very comfortable. Too comfortable.

Oh. She noticed there were pillows underneath her body and head. They must have put them underneath her. How thoughtful. But it just didn't _feel_ right.

Her brain was ticking. Things were coming together. She knew who she was. She was Hermione Granger. Brightest witch of her age. Lead investigator for the Ministry of Magic's Fair Muggle Practices Department. Best friend of Harry Potter. Best Friend and ex-girlfriend of Ronald Weasley. Bookworm. Bossy know-it-all. Yes. She remembered who she was. That was good.

She recognised the men above her. They were talking to her, but she wasn't listening. They were stroking her face and hair in a soothing manner. But it wasn't registering with her. She was trying to place them.

And then it hit her. Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. Death Eaters. Slytherin Princes. MZ Industries. Murderers. Cruel men. _Snakes_. She remembered she did not like them. They bullied her in school. They escaped prison. No. She did not like these men. And they did not like her.

But if that were true, why were they fawning over her? They looked so worried about her. They looked at her with love in their concerned eyes. It was strange.

She sat up again, and slapped their hands away as they tried to push her back down.

"Don't touch me snakes!" she yelled at them. She tried to stand quickly, and search for her wand but her legs gave out under her and she fell. The pale one caught her by the waist, while the tanned one snatched out his hands and cradled her head so it wouldn't smack onto the floor. What the hell?

"I said don't touch me!" she slapped at their hands again.

She looked up at them and saw pain etched across their faces.

"Mia bella, what is the matter?" Zabini asked her.

She looked at the man in confusion. "Why are you calling me that Zabini?"

Zabini and Malfoy shared a look of worry before turning their attention back to her.

"Princess? Look at me, princess." Malfoy spoke. She turned to him, disbelief and disgust written on her face.

"Princess? What the fuck are you playing at Ferret?" She could have sworn his eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, but it was gone so quickly that she couldn't be sure. He was looking at her with hurt in his eyes.

She had no idea what the fuck was happening. Why was she on the floor anyway? Why was she in this unfamiliar office? Was that …. Was that a fucking picture of her on the desk? WHAT THE FUCK?

The photograph was framed in silver, diamond encrusted frame. It showed her laughing and smiling as two men kissed her on the cheeks and laughed with her. The men were Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. She felt sick. That's not right. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" She whispered. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But she was frozen in shock, and could barely manage anything more than the pathetic quiet voice she spoke in.

Malfoy spoke first, his voice coated in worry. "You fell and hit your head, princess. You've been unconscious for about an hour now. We had Pinky come and treat your wounds. But we were so worried, my love. We were about to floo you back to the Manor and have a healer come and see to you when you started to wake."

"What is the last thing you remember, mia cara?"

She rubbed the back of her head. Yes. It was definitely sore. But her whole body was in pain. Like she had been hit by a speeding bus. She didn't notice this until Malfoy said she fell and hit her head. As soon as he said this, she searched for the pain. And found it. It crashed over her in waves of horror. So much pain. She groaned and closed her eyes and she cradled her own body.

"We have to get you back to the Manor, my love. I'll have a healer come straight from St. Mungo's."

"The Manor?" she asked quietly. She could barely focus on his words as pain drove through her entire being.

"The Manor, mia bella. Just relax." Zabini slipped his arms under her curled up body, and hoisted her up. He carried her bridal-style to the fireplace, Malfoy at his feet.

But that was all she remembered before darkness took her again.

And she was floating.

Hermione Granger was floating. She was floating in darkness. It was nice. It was nice here. She didn't want to leave. She could stay here forever and be content. At peace.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione Granger sat on the window seat of the grand bedroom at Malfoy Manor. The plush window seat was the most heavenly thing she'd ever sat upon. The window looked out to the balcony that was attached to the bedroom. But that's not why she liked it. She liked it because it looked out over the grounds of Malfoy Manor. She could see the beautifully extravagant gardens, exotic animals strolling around. Peacocks. She loved them. She could have sworn she saw a unicorn. But when she blinked, it was gone. Odd.

Zabini said it was her favourite place to sit in the room. She thought that he was right. But didn't vocalise her thoughts. She kept that to herself.

She was alone in the room. She was grateful. She needed to be alone. She needed to process. There was so much information that she just couldn't comprehend. It was just too much. So Zabini and Malfoy left her to her thoughts after she threw a vase at them. It almost got them too. But they deflected it. Right before it crashed into them. With wandless magic. Of course they knew wandless magic. It pissed her off more. She screamed at them to get out and leave her alone. They obliged, and said they would be back shortly to check on her. She wanted to escape. Escape? Was that the right word? She wasn't exactly a prisoner. But she wanted to leave all the same.

She couldn't though. Not without them knowing. She didn't have her wand. It broke when she fell. They said they would get her a new one. But she wanted her old one back. She had it since she was eleven years old. It was with her through everything. It saved her during the war, countless times. It was a part of her. She cried when they gave her the broken wand. It broke her heart. They tried to hold her and comfort her, but she screamed at them and wiggled free. They didn't try to touch her again.

The healer had come. Mr. Paul Kirk. A muggle-born healer that was world renowned for his work. He released several books in the muggle and wizarding world within the medicine community. She was aware that he also lectured at Oxford Uniuversity. He was a brilliant healer. And doctor, in the muggle world. Highly respected. And she knew him. They had been on somewhat friendly terms after they fought side-by-side in the war. She trusted him. He gave her some potions. He informed her that when she had fallen, her head suffered severe trauma from the impact. She had lost some of her memories. She was definitely suspicious as to why only some of her memories were missing; the memories that Zabini and Malfoy claimed to involve them. But the healer explained to her that she had been under immense stress regarding her secret relationship with the former Death Eaters; and as it was their very relationship that was the topic of debate before her fall, her brain had chosen selective memory loss in an attempt of self-preservation.

She had remembered reading something about selective amnesia some time ago. It usually pertained to relationships. And followed a trauma. She supposed her head injury was the trauma. That and her constant stress of telling her friends.

Apparently she and the snakes had been together in secret for eight months now. She had seen them at a bar in muggle London. She remembered seeing them that night. Healer Kirk said that this was a good sign, suggesting that her memories may come back. Apparently that night she had gotten so intoxicated, the men escorted her home. They spent the night with her, but nothing happened. The following morning they cared for her, and they had breakfast. She had been rude at first. But eventually warmed to them. They began to harass her (they used the word 'court' though). They sent flowers to her home, sent her clothes and jewellery (all of which resided at the Manor – she checked), and eventually turned up at her home one night to take her out to dinner. They portkeyed her to Florence, where they wouldn't be recognised. That is when they started their relationship. Apparently. She was still unsure. She knew that her memories had gaping holes in them. Holes that they filled, seemingly.

Zabini and Malfoy had been very upset at the Healer's diagnosis. They blamed themselves. She didn't pity them. It appeared they were right to blame themselves. She had gone to Malfoy's office at MZ Industries to approve their documents, but before she could do so they had begun to question her about her visit to Grimmauld Place that night. She always went to Harry's on a Friday. It was a family night. They had tried to coerce her into telling her friends about their relationship tonight, but she became angry with them. The three screamed and yelled at one another. She stormed around the office in a rage, before she fell over. And now she couldn't remember. They had been so upset.

An owl appeared while the men pleaded for her forgiveness. Malfoy read it. He informed Zabini that the documents were required within the hour. She sanctioned it. She wanted to get it out of the way. They told her that she didn't need to worry about the documents at that moment. That she needed to rest. That she wasn't fit to jump back into work yet. She was too weak. But she, being Hermione Granger, wanted to prove them wrong. She sanctioned the document, much to their dismay, and berated them for telling her she was too weak to do anything. She was Hermione Fucking Granger. Weakness was not in her vocabulary.

She missed the devious smile the men shared when she tossed the sanctioned parchment at them. She was too angry to notice anything. So instead she picked a fight with them. They didn't argue back, they just watched her in pity and hurt. It angered her more. She hated that she couldn't remember. That she was robbed of her memories. But she hated herself the most. She hated that she allowed herself to accept these men. She couldn't imagine a world where that would ever happen. She hated them! How the fuck could she ever care for these snakes? They were evil! But they didn't seem evil. Not when they were speaking comforting words to her. Not when they were fighting back tears at her distress. Not when they tried to soothe her anger. She didn't know these men. She only knew the Malfoy and Zabini that she hated. But the men that had doted over her, she didn't know them at all.

She told them that she wasn't going to tell anyone about their relationship yet. Because she didn't care about them. She thought it was best if they just ended then and there. And nobody would ever know. She would know. But she wouldn't remember. Not really. And it wouldn't bother her. She wouldn't be sad. Because she forgot their relationship. She forgot what it was like to be with them. She forgot what it was like to love them. So she didn't care. But they did.

They begged and pleaded with her to give them a chance. They said they wooed her once, and they could do it again. All they needed was for her to give them a chance. She didn't want to. But they said they would not let her go. They would be there at every turn she made. They loved her. They couldn't let her go.

They agreed that she would spend the night with Harry and Ginny at Grimmauld Place. She needed the time. They knew that. But she wouldn't tell her friends about her day. She couldn't. Not even if she wanted to. What could she say? It all sounded so unbelievable. She wasn't even sure about what she was going to do with the men, let alone tell everyone about her relationship.

Zabini and Malfoy had agreed with her. It was for the best that this remained a secret for now. Until she figured out what she was going to do.

She longed for the darkness again. It was just so peaceful when she was unconscious.

But it was not to be.

Instead she headed for the large walk-in closet. An entire wall was filled with her clothes. And clothes that she didn't recognise. She supposed the men had bought them for her. They were well out of her price range. And the shoes. So many shoes. Not one of which she could afford on her own. Everything was so beautiful.

She grabbed a bag and filled it with clothes and toiletries. She would spend the night at Harry's and figure out what to do. She was a smart woman. She had no doubt that she would make the right decision. She just didn't know what the right decision was, just yet.

But she had time. She would take time. And she would think. And she would decide.

The men. Or nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

Malevolence Chapter 6

Grimmauld Place was bursting with energy. Hermione Granger sat at the dining table as everyone chatted enthusiastically around her. Lavender and Ginny were comparing their belly sizes, both in their third trimester of pregnancy. Hermione was jealous. She had a lot going for her in her young age of 25, but she felt a little empty. Her friends had all gotten married and started their families. But she worked on building her career. She was proud of that. But she felt empty all the same. Why couldn't she have what Ron and Harry had? They both had their marriages and children on the way. And they both had brilliant careers. Harry was an Auror for the Ministry, and Ron was the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. They had it all. But she only had her career.

After dinner was finished, Hermione excused herself and went to the backyard of Grimmauld Place. She sat on a stone bench that faced the small gardens, enjoying her peace. She was so quiet during dinner; Harry kept asking her if she was alright. It was getting on her nerves a little, but she couldn't fault him for it. He was perceptive with her. He knew when she was upset or distracted by something. She tried to participate in the lively get-together, but she just couldn't summon the enthusiasm she usually had at their weekly dinner.

Her boys followed her to the garden and sat on either side of her on the stone bench.

They sat in silence for a while, before Harry asked her that blasted question again.

"Are you sure you're ok, 'Mione?"

"Yeah, Harry. I'm fine, really!" Hermione responded with a hint of exasperation.

"We've known you for fourteen years, 'Mione. We know when you're upset." Ron said.

Sighing in defeat, Hermione looked at her best friends. "Ok, I'm not fine. But I can't really talk about it."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"It's just … I don't know. I can't say."

"Ok … Well can we help you without you telling us what the problem is?"

She thought about Ron's question. Maybe she could get advice from them. But not tell them what the issue was. They wouldn't understand if she was fully honest with them. Hell, she didn't understand it herself. But watching her friends with their pregnant wives made her question the entire situation with Zabini and Malfoy. Maybe that was how they were together? Maybe she could have had that with them? She wanted that. She wanted to be loved, and love someone. She wanted to start a family with someone she loved with her entire heart. But she didn't want it to be them. Anyone but them.

She thought she would have it with Ron one day. But it never worked. They just weren't compatible. And that was ok. They never really got together, so they never really _ended_. That was a good thing though. It meant that there was no awkwardness or bitterness in their friendship. In fact, they were closer than ever. There was no tension between them anymore. They just worked better as friends.

She decided to tell them. Sort of. She needed their advice. She couldn't handle this on her own, as much as she hated to admit it.

"Ok" she started with hesitance. "Let's just say you had something. Something special. Something that you loved. But one day you woke up and you don't remember loving it. You still have it. But you don't remember ever loving it. You don't remember caring for it. You don't remember anything about the thing."

Ron furrowed his brow at her words, Harry just looked perplexed.

"But then you have the opportunity to remember how much you loved this thing. You were offered the chance to remember it. Remember that you cared. Would you want to remember? Or would you just let it go?"

Ron looked at her like she was mad and Harry shrugged. She returned her attention to the garden before her as the boys thought about her cryptic questions.

Harry offered his opinion first. "I would want to remember it. If you really cared about this thing, and you loved it, you should want to remember it. Although I'm not sure if my advice helps, because I'm not sure what this 'thing' is 'Mione."

She just nodded, deep in thought about Harry's words.

The advice really did not help her, she decided. It was all well and good to say you'd choose to remember, but if she did she could hurt people. If she gave the men a chance and remembered what it felt like to love them, she would have to tell her friends about them at some point. And that would kill Harry and Ron. They would be devastated. It would do more harm than good.

She would hurt Harry and Ron if she were to remember. These two men meant the world to her. She didn't want to disappoint them. These two men were the only men she needed in her life. Two men whom she loved dearly. She couldn't imagine her life without them.

But maybe that's what she had with Zabini and Malfoy? The thought perplexed her. But they did fuss over her like her best friends did. Maybe that's why she accepted them in the first place? It felt familiar and right to have two men by her side. Maybe that's why. She knew about the history of pureblood families. It wasn't unheard of for two pureblood men to court one woman. But that was usually due to population issues. But maybe they just wanted her and didn't care about their traditions anymore? Doubtful. And when did they stop caring about blood supremacy? She was a muggle-born. Would they really want to sully their bloodlines with her muggle heritage? Well, she supposed they wouldn't get that far. They had only been in a relationship. They weren't engaged or anything.

How did their relationship even work? Were they all together? Were Malfoy and Zabini lovers as well? She doubted it. They were definitely close. So in tune with one another. Like two halves of a whole. But they didn't seem to share any romantic feelings with one another. Would the three of them have sex at the same time? Wouldn't that hurt? How did it work? Was it good? Would one be jealous of the other, if she gave him more attention? It was definitely confusing to her.

But Harry and Ron were never jealous of one another when it came to Hermione. Maybe it was the same with Zabini and Malfoy? Should she call them by their first names? They seemed to avoid using her first name. They used pet names when they addressed her. Princess, Malfoy would call her. Zabini would call her 'cara'. She didn't know what that meant. He called her other things too, but they were all Italian. She didn't know what they meant. She should look it up.

She let her thoughts consume her as she sat between her best friends on the stone bench. Harry had taken her hand at some point, and Ron had placed his arm around her shoulders. This was them comforting her. She liked it. It was familiar. Safe. Secure.

Was this how she felt with the snakes? Safe and secure? She couldn't imagine it. She couldn't imagine feeling anything other than hatred for the men. They were foul. They had done horrid things during the war. She petitioned for their imprisonment! They wouldn't know that though. Hopefully. She doubted they did.

She forced a smile on her weary face and motioned for the boys to escort her back to the festivities. All the while her thoughts never escaped the men.

.

.

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace in her small apartment. She was supposed to go back to the Manor after leaving Harry's in the morning, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She needed more time. She hadn't decided yet.

She tossed her duffel bag on the sofa and headed straight for the booze cabinet. She was hungover from the raucous night at Harry's, but she figured that 'hair of the dog' was her best option. She wasn't a big drinker or anything, but she wasn't afraid to get sloshed every now and then.

After the war, Hermione begun to lose her uptight self. Thankfully. She now enjoyed parties, dancing, drinking and sex as much as the next person. The war had been so devastating, and had changed her. It had changed everyone. But she was grateful for the changes in herself. She felt more … relaxed. Like she had come into herself finally. She no longer felt the need to prove herself at every turn. She didn't care what people thought about her anymore. It was a relief.

Grabbing a bottle of moscato and a wine glass, she sat herself on the sofa facing the fireplace. She pulled out her laptop and searched for Italian phrases. As she sipped at the fruity wine, she considered her options.

She could give the men a chance, and potentially care for them again. But would she want to care for them? They were Death Eaters. Or were. But still. But maybe she was happy with them? They seemed to think she was. But she couldn't imagine it.

The second option was looking most attractive to her. She could move on with her life, snake-free, and continue focusing on her career. If love found her, that would be great, but if it didn't … well, she didn't want to think of that. She didn't want to admit that she craved love in her life. That she was lonely. That her career wasn't enough for her. But at least this way, her life wouldn't include the Ferret or Stronzo (the internet had just provided her with the Italian word; asshole).

Her eyes caught a glimpse of a moving picture she hadn't noticed before. It was sitting atop the fireplace. She stood and walked over to it. Examining it, she made her decision.

The photograph showed her and the men on a white sandy beach. She was laughing as the men as they approached her playfully. The Ferret grabbed her by the waist as she tried to run away, and the Stronzo dunked a bucket of ocean water over her. The three of them were laughing hysterically. And then they kissed her. At the same time. All smiling as their lips connected. She had never looked happier in her life.

She decided. She would give them a chance. One week, only.

* * *

Blaise and Draco occupied two plush arm chairs in Narcissa's favourite room within the Manor; the sunroom. The large glass room featured many sitting areas, and small circular tables. They were seated at the largest sitting area in the glass enclosure that was parallel to the gardens on the left. The left side of the gardens were undoubtedly Narcissa's favourite as that is where she would catch the most glimpses of the two unicorns they owned. But Narcissa's attentions were not on the beautiful beasts that roamed the gardens; her attentions were set on the two men across from her and Mediana Zabini.

Narcissa and Mediana had just been informed by their sons of the malevolent scheme regarding the Granger girl. Their sons had enlightened them of their plans in order to acquire their support. Blaise and Draco would undoubtedly need their mothers' backing in their quest to ruin Hermione Granger's life. Even if Granger was the dumbest woman alive, her suspicions would be confirmed if their mothers failed to recognise or acknowledge her place in their lives; a potential daughter-in-law.

But as expected, Draco and Blaise were disappointed with their mothers' reactions to their scheme. The women appeared saddened at the apparent maliciousness of their sons, but Blaise and Draco were not concerned. Their mothers knew better than to cross them. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was delighted at the revelations. Although Blaise and Draco's appreciation of this quickly dimmed as Lucius made the reason for his support known.

"I cannot express enough just how impressed I am at the initiative you both show in strengthening the family names of Malfoy and Zabini." Lucius drawled from beside his wife. "With the unity of our families and Hermione Granger, our families' dented reputations will no doubt be mended. I applaud your ambition."

"You misunderstand father." Draco said incredulously. "We have no intention of publicly announcing our 'relationship' with the mudblood. It is merely for entertainment and retribution purposes."

"Our families' reputations will mend with time" Blaise added "but our pride will not if we are to be associated publicly with the filth."

"I see." Lucius spoke with apparent disappointment. "No matter. I trust your affiliation with the muggle world via MZ Industries will repair our family names instead."

"It will." Draco agreed.

"Yes. And it will be much easier to conceal our questionable practices with the muggle world with the mudblood by our sides." Blaise smirked. "Or should I say, 'mia cara."

Blaise and Draco laughed. But it was a hollow laugh. For there was no joy in the men. There was never any joy in the men. Not since they were children. No. Their joy had been snuffed out a long time ago. So their laughs were hollow. As they always were.

"I have not seen Ms. Granger for many years." Mediana spoke. "Is she a pretty girl?"

Draco frowned at the woman, as Blaise curled his lip.

"As pretty as a mudblood can be, I suppose." Blaise spat with distaste.

"She is a very smart witch, if memory serves." Narcissa contributed. "The brightest of her age, I remember."

Draco shrugged indifferently. Blaise altogether ignored the comment.

"Well, you have our support." Lucius drawled, confirming what everyone in the room already knew. Their family would not stand against them. They knew that. Even if they were to disprove of their menacing scheme, they would support their sons no matter what.

"How did you convince her, dear?" Narcissa asked Draco.

"We had the healer Paul Kirk come and assess her. But of course he lied to her. She trusts him, so it was easy to manipulate." Draco responded as he inspected his manicured nails.

"Did you blackmail him?" Mediana asked.

"We didn't have to." Blaise responded, sipping on his Fire Whiskey. "The healer owes us his life. He repaid the debt."

"Oh? And how did he come to owe you his life?" Narcissa pushed.

"We encountered him in Bulgaria during the war. But we were exhausted. It was during the 'Great Wave', and we had been hunting and fighting for days without sleep or food. We both tried to fire the Avada at him, but it would not come. We were simply too exhausted to issue the curse, so we let him go." Blaise explained.

"We let him believe it was an act of mercy, but of course it was not. We could not allow him to realise we were too weak to fight, lest he attack us. So we let him go. And he vowed to repay us." Draco continued.

"And repay us, he did." Blaise smirked.

The men missed the brief looks of disappointment on their mothers' faces. The women had foolishly allowed themselves to hope that they spared the muggle-born healer out of compassion. An act of mercy. But of course, they were wrong to think that their sons had an ounce of compassion within them. The men were cold. Their hearts were black. If they had hearts, that is. The war had been tough on everyone. On both sides. But their sons had suffered greatly. They witnessed the destruction of villages. Towns. Cities. They participated in the killings of innocents. Men, women and children. They got no joy from the act. The women knew this. Their sons felt nothing. But that concerned them more. At least if they _enjoyed_ the killings they would have had some sort of pleasure within them, even if it was the most twisted kind of pleasure. But they were cold and unfeeling men. They felt no joy. Only anger. And it broke their mothers' hearts.

Although the women were foolish again. They allowed themselves to hope. They held hope that Ms. Granger would steal the black hearts of their sons. That she would provide them with some semblance of happiness. Joy. Pleasure. Anything that made their lives worth living. But they knew their hopes were foolish. For their sons were cold men. Unfeeling. Dead inside. As they had been for many years now.

* * *

Hermione Granger sat in her apartment still. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the sofa as she devoured her second bottle of moscato. She had ransacked her home in search of more photographs and evidence of her time with the men. And now she sat on the floor with a pile of photographs and letters before her.

She glanced up at the clock as she threw back her wine. It was two in the afternoon. She was supposed to return to the Manor in the morning after she left Harry's, but she couldn't bring herself to go. Yes she had decided on allowing the men to woo her again, giving them only one week. But she submerged herself in the evidence of the memories she no longer had, and couldn't find the strength to part from them. The photographs and letters from the men showed nothing but love and happiness. And she revelled in it.

Perhaps she had drank too much wine, she mused. Or she had gone insane, she laughed bitterly. She must have. Otherwise she would not be gushing over affectionate letters from the two men she hated most in this world. She would not be smiling at the apparent glee that she showed in the photographs. She must have had too much wine.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the fireplace before her lit up, and out stepped the snakes in the flesh. Bastards.

"You were supposed to return to the Manor in the morning." Draco said as he moved to sit beside her.

"I see you became distracted, cara." Blaise spoke as inspected the two empty wine bottles on the floor.

She scoffed as she threw back the remaining contents of her wine glass.

Draco ran his fingers through her curls. "Have you remembered anything, princess?"

It was so weird. Too weird. It just didn't feel right.

She shuddered.

"I guess not." Draco spoke with sadness at her reaction to him.

"I'm trying to." She said. But she kept her eyes on the now-empty wine glass she wished was full.

"Pinky!" Blaise called for the house-elf, seating himself next to Hermione as he did so.

The house-elf appeared in the room. "Yes Master Blaise?" It said as it bowed.

"Bring a few bottles of Mistress Granger's favourite wine immediately. You will find a supply in the cellar at the Manor."

"Yes Master Blaise." Pinky apparated out of the apartment and back within twenty seconds, carrying three bottles of Sucre Vox. It was her favourite wine. Cheap. But definitely her favourite.

Pinky left the apartment, and Hermione allowed a small smile to grace her lips as Blaise refilled her glass and handed it to her.

"This photograph was taken in Dubai. Do you remember that trip?" Draco asked as he inspected a picture of Hermione laughing and smiling next to a plated gold statue.

"No." She shook her head before returning her attention to her wine.

Draco nodded solemnly as he looked through the pile of photographs on the floor, his fingers still entwined in her mass of luscious curls. They were soft, he mused. Not like they were when they were children. He never touched her hair when they were children but he didn't need to touch them to determine that they were course and frizzy. He just had to look at the mop atop her head. But now they were loose curls, soft to the touch.

"Have you given much thought to our proposal, mia cara?" Blaise asked as their eyes met.

"Yes." She responded. "I can't say I'm overjoyed about my decision. But I feel I need to give you a chance. Or both of you a chance."

Blaise smiled warmly at her, in place of the devious smirk that threatened to show.

"I'm glad to hear that, princess. You had us worried with your tardiness." Draco said beside her.

"I wasn't ready to come." She explained.

"We understand that, my love. But an owl would have been nice." Draco lightly scolded her. She wondered if they were always this gentle with her, or if it was just because of her peculiar situation. Did they just feel the need to tip-toe around her because they thought her fragile? She was anything but fragile, she mused bitterly. But it wasn't true. Not really. She knew this, but wouldn't accept it. She was at her most fragile now than she had ever been before.

"Ignore him, mia bella." Blaise said softly as he shot a glare at Draco. "He is still a little touchy from the thought of losing you."

She smiled slightly. Blaise was definitely kinder with her than Draco.

Blaise stood from the coffee table and placed himself next to Hermione on the floor. She sat between the two men as they looked through the photographs in silence. The silence wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but it wasn't relaxed either. As she sat there between the snakes, she couldn't help but notice that she felt a sense of familiarity. Although that could be due to her close friendship with Harry and Ron. She had become accustomed to being flanked by two men. One on each side of her. Perhaps that was why it felt familiar, she thought.

"I'm giving you both one week." She broke the silence.

Neither men responded but she felt them both tense slightly. She turned to Draco and saw that his jaw was clenched as he looked at the photograph she first noticed earlier that morning. She turned her head to face Blaise who was looking at her thoughtfully.

"One week." He repeated. "Cara, it took more than one week to court you the first time around."

"Yes. But you knew nothing about me then, right? And now you apparently know everything about me. I'd say one week was a generous offer considering how I feel about you both right now."

Blaise's eyes narrowed at her words.

"How do you feel about us?" Draco asked, his eyes not leaving the picture in his hand. His other hand was still buried in her curls, but she didn't notice. Definitely too much wine.

"I … Well, I'm confused. You both tell me about all these wonderful times we've had together. You sit around me and speak to me as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Like you've worked out the dynamics of our relationship already. And I suppose you have. But I haven't. I just remember how horrid you both were. I remember the things you did during the war –"

"I'll stop you right there, cara." Blaise interjected sternly. "We made a promise a long time ago to never discuss our actions during the war. Any of our actions. That includes you, for I remember you were not so innocent either. But it is in the past now. And we all have to carry the burdens of our actions. But we will not discuss them."

Hermione thinned her lips at Blaise's tone. He was not upset with her, she didn't think. But he was stern. She wanted to bite back but for some reason, she accepted his authority. Odd. Perhaps a part of her did remember her relationship with them? Or perhaps she knew better than to upset Blaise Zabini. She didn't know.

"Fine. But it doesn't change anything else I said. I don't know you. I don't know either of you. I only know you as bad men who got away with murd – um … doing bad things."

"Two years in Azkaban. We did not get away with anything, princess." Draco spoke. Hand still in her hair, and eyes still on the photograph.

She wanted to say that two years in Azkaban was a slap on the wrist for the things that they had done. She wanted to say that she tried everything in her power to have them put away for life. But she didn't. She frowned and sipped her wine instead.

"We've had this conversation before, mia bella. But let me provide you with a summary. We have both done bad things. Things that cannot be taken back. And we live with them every day of our lives. We had our reasons for participating in the war, on the dark side. On the _wrong_ side. But we are repentant. We are sincere in our remorse. And I hope that you can find it within yourself again to look past our histories. For if you focus on our wrongdoings, you will fail to see us as we are now. Two remorseful men. Two former death eaters in love with a muggle-born witch." Blaise's tone remained firm as he spoke. She felt like a child in trouble. She felt … ashamed? A little guilty? But why?

Was there a part of her that knew they were truly sorry for the things they had done? Blaise had said that they had their reasons for their actions, but what could possibly justify murder? Her head was spinning from the chaos inside of her mind. And the wine of course.

"Like I said, I'll give you one week." Hermione spoke. She didn't know what else to say in response to Blaise's lecture.

Draco touched his finger to her chin and guided her to face to look at him.

"Promise me, princess. Promise me that you will look past our wrongdoings, and really give us a chance." He requested, his finger lightly brushing against her chin.

"Ok. I promise." She agreed.

Draco smiled at her briefly before handing her the photograph in his hand.

Blaise placed his arm around her shoulder as he examined the photograph with the others.

"Where was this taken?" She asked. It was definitely her favourite picture.

"Magaluf. We went there for a weekend a few months ago." Draco stated.

"Would you like to go back, cara?"

She shrugged in response. "The beach is gorgeous."

"Yes, you were quite fond of it." Draco said.

"Well it is decided." Blaise said. "If one week is all that you will give us, then we will use it to our advantage. We will take you to Magaluf for the week. We will stay at the MZ Resort, and take you to this beach whenever you please."

She smiled at his words. She had never been to Magaluf before. Well, not that she could remember. But she had always wanted to go. And she loved the beach. She was definitely pleased.

Draco smirked at her blatant glee. Such a fool. He traded his smirk for a look of nonchalance as he spoke.

"The seven days will start tomorrow morning, where you will meet us at the Manor. We will send you an owl with the time after we arrange everything. I suggest you inform your supervisor that you will not be able to attend work for the week."

"We don't want anyone to think that we kidnapped you, cara." Blaise winked at her.

She laughed lightly. She was definitely still on guard with the men, but her defences were somewhat weakened by the amount of wine she had consumed.

"If we are fortunate, the familiarity of the resort will assist in the recovery of your memories." Draco speculated.

"Do you think that could happen?" She turned to him with hope in her eyes.

"I hope so, princess." He smiled at her.

She blushed a little as she turned back to face the fireplace ahead of her.

"Me too." She agreed quietly. "But I have a lot of packing to do, and a letter to write to the Head of my department, so if you don't mind." She inclined her head toward the fireplace.

"Ah. Come Draco, I don't believe we are wanted anymore." Blaise teased.

The men approached the fireplace and made to leave.

"Pack lightly, princess. We will have Pinky pack a bag from your selection at the Manor." Draco instructed.

"We will also purchase attire on the island when we are there." Blaise added.

The men nodded at her and smiled before the fireplace lit up and they were gone.

She exhaled a sigh of relief at their departure.

While they were charming, attractive men, she could not help but feel on edge around them. Or was it because she _didn't_ feel as on edge around them as she thought she should? Was she relieved at their departure because she allowed them to charm her?

She had definitely had too much wine.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Day One.**_

Hermione stood in the grand foyer of the Malfoy Manor. She had been there before, but each time she had been so distracted that she never had the chance to appreciate its beauty. It was a grand entrance. The floors and staircase were made of solid white marble, the ceiling was high and littered with silver chandeliers, and the walls were bare. She had expected the walls to be covered in tacky artefacts and portraits of Malfoy ancestors, but it was white and bare.

Blaise and Draco stood beside her, charming their luggage to minimise before placing them in their pockets. Hermione didn't help. Her mouth was agape and her eyes wide as she drank in the beauty around her. To think that someone had grown up here as a child bewildered her. It was a home for kings and queens, not children.

"Cara, are you alright?" asked Blaise.

"What?" she asked, snapping out of her stupor. "Oh, yes. I'm fine, thank you."

Draco smirked and said, "The foyer isn't even a favourite of yours, you know."

"You love the sunroom, much like Narcissa," agreed Blaise.

Hermione hummed and pulled her gaze from the décor. She glanced between them and asked, "Have either of you seen my diary? I searched for it last night, but it's nowhere to be found. I must have left it here."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at her, as Blaise tilted his head slightly.

"I was not aware that you kept a journal, cara."

Draco added, "Are you keeping secrets from us?"

She wasn't surprised they didn't know she had a diary. She was very secretive about it. The things she wrote in it were far too personal.

"Come, cara." Blaise held out his hand to her.

Hermione hovered her hand above him, hesitating. Was she really about to do this? Go on a vacation with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini? It was preposterous.

Dread pooled in her stomach at the thought. How had she gotten herself into this?

Exhaling loudly, she tried to muster up her Gryffindor courage and placed her hand in Blaise's. She could always leave Spain if she decided to, she reassured herself.

Draco snaked his arm around her waist as he held out a silver goblet. The portkey, she gathered. Blaise placed his free hand on the goblet and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Relax mia bella."

Before she could snort derisively, the goblet glowed before her eyes, and all she could think of was to pull from their hold on her and run. But she didn't. She was not a coward.

Hermione's body suddenly jerked as the portkey blasted throughout the room.

And then, the foyer turned into another room altogether.

Blaise and Draco landed on their feet gracefully, while Hermione collapsed onto the ground beside them. She heard a chuckle, but she wasn't sure which one of them had laughed at her poor landing.

Hermione climbed to her feet and flattened her bushy mane. "Thanks for the help."

Draco winked at her. "Why would we help, when it's so much more fun this way?"

Snubbing his words, Hermione let her eyes wander. They stood in a large white room with nothing inside of it. Nothing except the three of them and one door man. Odd.

"It's the arrival room," Draco informed her. "For magical people that wish to portkey or apparate into the hotel."

"It allows our people to travel conveniently, without arousing suspicion from the muggle guests," added Blaise.

She was impressed. She hadn't really thought about where their portkey would take them exactly. She didn't think of the muggle guests that would undoubtedly inhabit the resort. Smart, she mused. But she didn't voice this. She just nodded.

"It was your idea, cara. Don't you remember?"

She looked at Blaise curiously. "Was it?"

Draco smiled. "Of course it was, Brightest Witch of Our Age. You surely cannot be surprised?"

Hermione hummed neutrally before she said, "You're welcome."

An elderly Spanish couple apparated into the quiet room a few yards away. They smiled at the trio and made their way to the doorman to give their names.

Draco said, "Come, amour. I don't wish to waste another minute of our time with you." He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the doorman. Blaise walked beside them, his hand brushing up against hers slightly, but never taking it. She was grateful. They were too affectionate at times with her. She understood that it must be difficult for them to show restraint, but she was just not comfortable enough with them yet. Even the slight touch of Draco's hand on her back was igniting adrenaline within her. His mere touch was forcing her body to react. But not positively. No. She was in fight, flight, or freeze mode. But she wouldn't admit that she wanted to _flee_. Her pride was too much for that. So she swallowed down her fears and let them lead her across the room. The snakes at her sides, flanking her.

What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

Hermione stood at the banister of the private balcony attached to their suite. Her eyes had been locked onto the view before her for the past ten minutes. She had not moved. Their balcony stood above all others providing them with a magnificent view of the large resort and private beach. It was not the beach from the photograph, but an equally as beautiful beach exclusive to the guests at the resort. The hotel was grand in size, shaped in a large square with the pool and tropical gardens in the centre. It was exquisite. The enormous pool was lined with cabanas, draped in ivory silk curtains. Some of the cabanas featured a large soft mattress, while others had sofas and lounge chairs. It was by far the most beautiful resort she had ever been to. And to think that Blaise and Draco had not only owned the magnificent hotel, but designed it was outrageous to her. To think that those men could create something so breathtaking …

The men in question were with her on the balcony, but seated on the large chaise that faced the view. But they weren't taking in the view of the resort. They were taking in the view of Hermione Granger.

They had prepared for her favourite wine to be delivered to the room, but she had yet to touch it. They had ordered her wine earlier than they had anticipated they would. But she had become distressed upon entering the suite to find there was only one bed. She hadn't given much thought to the sleeping arrangements before. But when she spotted the grand four poster bed, she immediately became upset. They had successfully persuaded her to remain in suite with them for the duration of the trip by promising her they would be the perfect gentlemen. She had reluctantly agreed, although was evidently still hesitant.

While they waited for the delivery of her wine, they successfully distracted her with the view their private balcony offered in order to calm her. But she hadn't moved from the banister for a while now. Not even when her beloved wine had arrived. She was in a trance. The view captivated her. And they let it for a while.

"Cara, do you not want your wine?" asked Blaise, breaking her free of her daze.

She turned to the men and forced a smile. "A wine would be lovely."

Draco held her glass out to her as she walked over to them. She took the glass from Draco and hesitated. She didn't know where to sit. There was a cosy dining table on the other side of the large balcony, but it was enough of a distance away that it would be awkward if she sat there. It would be a clear rejection of them. It would be rude. So she sat the only other place she could. Between them on the chaise. Although she found that just as awkward she realised as she made herself as comfortable as she could.

They sat in silence for a long time. She didn't know how long. But it was about one and a half bottles of wine long, she thought. The men would take turns in filling her glass when she had emptied its contents into her mouth. But they didn't speak. They sat and watched the residents of the resort in the distance. Children laughed and played by the pool, while groups of friends drank by the Caribbean-style bar. Lovers occupied most of the cabanas, while others strolled through the lush gardens hand in hand. She smiled at the enjoyment the guests were displaying. Many appeared to be on their honeymoons, or anniversaries. She mused that this would definitely be a perfect resort for such events. It was beautiful and romantic. No wonder they had brought her here. Ever the cunning Slytherins, she thought with a smirk.

"It's beautiful." Hermione said after a long silence. It felt wrong to break the silence that consumed them. The silence had been … peaceful. But that made her uneasy after some time. She should not feel so peaceful around them. But the wine saw to it that she did. The wine ensured that she relaxed around them. She supposed she should allow that, but her inner Gryffindor was screaming at her to remember who the men were. Slytherins. Snakes. Death Eaters. Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. So she broke the silence.

"Would you like to explore it?" Blaise asked as his eyes ran over her face.

"Now?" She asked, evidently torn between the tempting offer and her full glass of wine.

Draco leaned towards her and whispered in ear. "You can bring your wine."

Blaise held out his hand to her. "Let us show you the beauty that you inspired in us."

She stood without acknowledging Blaise's extended hand.

"Let's go." She said, composing herself.

She missed the twitch of Blaise's upper lip at her rude rejection of him.

They placed their hands on her back and escorted her through the hotel, to the gardens.

"What would you like to see first?" Draco asked as they reached the stone staircase in the centre of the resort.

"What do you recommend?"

"You enjoy the maze." Blaise suggested. "They're lined with roses."

"Your favourite." Draco added.

She thinned her lips at their knowledge of her preferred flowers.

They strolled through the maze for some time, neither removing their hands from her back. She didn't attempt to escape from their touches, but she was not entirely comfortable with it either. A few passing couples had shot her looks of judgement at their display. Muggles, she assumed. For it wasn't so strange for a trio of magical people to enter into a relationship. Predominately purebloods. But nevertheless, witches and wizards were definitely more accepting of unusual relationships. Whether it be a threesome, or a werewolf and witch, or a vampire and wizard. The wizarding community were certainly more accepting of relationships that would be considered controversial in the muggle world. But she did not notice the glares the snakes had shot the muggles upon seeing their looks of judgement. The glares that had even the biggest of men quivering in their boots.

Blaise extended his hand and plucked a small rosebud from the bush beside them as they came to a stop. Hermione thought he was going to hand her the rose, but he surprised her. He tucked the small flower behind her ear and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She smiled as he pulled back and looked at her.

"Magico." He smiled at her.

She cleared her throat attempting to compose herself. "I'm feeling a little tired."

Draco laid a soft kiss on her shoulder, gaining her attention. She turned to him.

"The sun will set soon. Would you like to watch it?" He asked.

"We can go back to the balcony, or walk to the beach if you wish." Blaise continued.

"The beach." She nodded. She hadn't seen the sun set for years. No doubt it would be beautiful. The view would be better from the balcony, but she did wish to visit the beach.

She was glad they hadn't consumed as much alcohol as she had, for she would have no idea how to navigate her way out of the maze. As they walked in the silence, she let her mind wander to the maze Harry had to endure in their fourth year. The tournament labyrinth was about the same size as the one she strolled through now, but they did not compare. The maze Harry faced was dark. It was evil and cruel. But this maze was beautiful. It was welcoming and smelled of nature. It was beautiful.

She had finished her wine some time ago, but carried the empty glass in her hand as they travelled through the centre of the resort. She wished it was full again. But she didn't want to ask the men for more. Surely she'd had enough. She didn't want them to think she had a drinking problem. Not that she cared about what they thought of her or anything.

They reached the beach, and the men used wandless magic to conjure a blanket. Draco took her hand as she sat on the cashmere throw, and Blaise took her empty glass. They sat beside her and summoned her wine and their Fire Whiskey. She was grateful for the now full glass that Blaise handed her. But she was irritated as well. She hadn't said she wanted more wine. She hadn't even hinted at it. But it was like they knew her. Like they could read her mind or something. They could if they wanted to, she supposed. They were no doubt skilled at occlumency and legimacy. But she could tell when someone probed her mind. So she settled for the fact that they just _knew_ her. And it irritated her to no end.

They drank from their glasses as they watched the sun set before them. The sky was a beautiful red, and the sun seemed to sit atop the crystal blue ocean in the distance. It was magnificent.

"This is where you first told us you loved us." Draco said quietly.

"Do you remember?"

She shook her head sadly. No. She did not remember. But she wished she did. She wished she could remember everything. She hated not remembering. They seemed to be such a big part of her life. But she could not remember.

Draco thinned his lips, apparently disappointed. Blaise took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"You will one day."

"What if I don't?"

"Then we will create new memories." Draco answered. He turned to look at her and smiled. "Together."

She didn't smile back. She turned her face back to the vision before her and remained silent. The week had only just started, yet he made promises of new memories. Confident, presumptuous, or arrogant?


End file.
